


Fool Me Once, Shame On You...

by iTony



Series: Tony Snark [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, Humor, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Clint Barton, Roombas, Snarky Tony, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:46:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iTony/pseuds/iTony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Steve organized an intervention for Tony, Tony has been mercilessly pranking Steve on a near-daily basis.  Steve takes it like a champ and in the meantime tells the filthiest joke anyone's ever heard.  Sequel to "April Fools."  Prequel to "Flour Child."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool Me Once, Shame On You...

**Monday**

The Avengers assembled in Conference Room 3 at nine-thirty on Monday at Fury’s direction.  Each of them was carrying a thin manila envelope.  

“I want to keep this briefing brief, since I only have fifteen minutes left on the meter,” said Fury sternly.  He stood at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back, imposing in a black leather coat and gloves that he insisted on wearing even indoors.

The conference room was bleak.  There was no furniture except for the long wooden table and the plain black office chairs around it.

“Is everyone clear on what the situation is, and what you need to do?”

“Crystal,” said Bruce.

“Yes, sir,” said Steve.

“I just don’t understand why that idiot let the bear out of the cage,” said Natasha, looking down at her folder.

“Alcohol makes even the wisest man a fool,” said Thor.

“They shouldn’t have sold fireworks to him in the first place,” said Clint.

“Are you going to provide us with respirators for this mission?” asked Bruce.

“No,” said Fury.

“I want to know how they even got it to fit inside the lighthouse, let alone got it up there,” said Natasha.

“Well, at least the riots are under control,” said Tony, tucking his folder under his arm.  “Are we all done here?”  He slid his chair out.

“Not so fast.  I have some announcements,” said Fury, staring daggers at Tony.  After a tense pause, Tony slid him chair back in.

“First,” began Fury, “Tony, you need to stop parking in my spot.”

“What?  Me?  I don’t park in your spot,” protested Tony.

“Really.  So the midnight-blue Bugatti with the license plate ‘RUDE BOY’ wasn’t you?”

“Okay.  That was me,” confessed Tony.

“And the starburst-orange McLaren with the license plate ‘WAR SWAG?”

“Also mine,” admitted Tony.

“And the bright purple Aston Martin with the license plate ‘STRK NKD?’”

“Okay, okay, I get it.  But I didn’t park in your spot _today_.”

“Yes, because someone else already had,” growled Fury, turning on Thor.  “Thor, you need to move your hammer.”

Thor looked hurt.  “How do you know it is _my_ hammer?”

“Are you kidding me right now?  You’re the only one with a magical flying hammer.”

“My friend Aurvandil has a hammer,” said Thor defensively.

“Yeah, I think Davis in accounting drives a hammer,” added Tony.

“You stay out of this,” said Fury, pointing to Tony.  “And you. _Move your hammer_.”

“I shall not move it unless it is mine to move,” said Thor stubbornly.  “Describe it to me.”

Fury drew a hand over his face.  “Okay, fine.  It’s square and made of metal and grey and covered in Norse designs.  Does that sound like your hammer?”

Thor considered.  “Is it a heather grey or a steel grey?”

“Steel.”

“More of a stormcloud steel, or a mercurial steel?”

“ _What?_  I don’t know!  Stormcloud!”

“By the Nine!  It _is_ my hammer!” cried Thor.  “I must retrieve it before anyone makes off with it!”  He stood and paced out of the room, red cape fluttering behind him.

“God, I love that guy,” said Tony.

“You,” said Fury, turning on Tony.  “Another thing.   _Stop pranking Steve_.”

“Oh… oh, it’s okay, really,” protested Steve, who looked embarrassed.

“No, it’s not alright, Steve.  We know how hard it is for you to acclimate to the future and we appreciate all the efforts you make.  Tony’s lashing out because you’re the one who organized his intervention last month, and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore.  Tony.  I don’t want to hear about any more mean pranks being pulled on Steve, or you taking advantage of his lack of knowledge about our culture.”

“In my defense, Steve is totally lame and once wore a t-shirt into the pool,” said Tony.

“I used to be a skinny guy!” explained Steve.

“I don’t care if he wears an inflatable rubber duck tube into the pool.  You _leave him alone_ ,” snapped Fury.

Tony heaved a sigh.  “Okay, fine.”

“Now shake hands.”

“What?”

“Shake hands,” repeated Fury.

Tony scowled and reached across the table.  He and Steve shook hands, Tony a little harder than necessary.

Fury nodded approvingly.  “Now.  Does anyone have anything else they need to resolve before next month’s mission?”

Everyone shook their heads, and they were dismissed.

 

**Tuesday**

Clint slipped into the break room at the crack of dawn, hoping to swig down some coffee discreetly before anyone else arrived.  But someone was already in.

Sitting in the corner of the room on the warm burgundy couch, Steve Rogers was stretched out, arms crossed, watching an old television.  Next to him, on the floor, was a milk crate filled with VHS tapes.

“Hey, Cap.  What are you doing?”

Steve turned his head.  “Morning, Clint.  Just trying to get caught up on some, you know, cultural reference stuff.”  He grinned sheepishly.  “Still adjusting to life in the future.”

“What the hell is this?” asked Clint, watching the television, where a cartoon was playing merrily. Animated mice were singing with gusto.

He reached down into the milk crate and pulled out the cardboard sleeve for the tape.  “ _The Secret of NIMH 2: Timmy to the Rescue_ ,” he read.  “You’re kidding me.  Of everything you could possibly choose, Scarface, Titanic, Star Wars… you choose _that_ to watch?”

“I’m sure those other ones are in here,” said Steve.  “Tony put together the 100 best tapes for me to watch from the last sixty years.  He took a lot of time to do it.  He said he was sorry for all the pranks.”

Clint strode over purposefully and knelt by the crate, rummaging through it.  “ _Jack and Jill… Son of the Mask… Theodore Rex… Baby Geniuses… Manos: Hands of Fate._ ”  He sighed and dropped the tapes.  “Steve, how many of these have you seen so far?”

“Since yesterday morning?  About six.”

Clint stood up, walked over to the television, and turned it off.  “Steve.  All of these movies are terrible.  Tony pranked you again.”

Steve’s face fell.  “Oh no… darn it... “

“You’ve got to stop believing him.  You know he loves messing with you.”

“Well, I don’t know, _sometimes_ he tells the truth,” said Steve helplessly.

“Yeah, and the only reason he does that is so that you believe everything else he says!  Seriously, Steve.  He’s out to get you ever since that intervention.”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you said,” replied Steve.

“Oh really,” said Clint, holding up _Howard the Duck_.  “Not as bad?”

Steve grimaced.  “Okay… maybe it is.”

* * *

Clint confronted Tony the moment he walked into the break room.  “Did you prank Steve into watching a bunch of shitty movies?”

“ _Billy the Kid v. Dracula_ was a cinematic masterpiece and you know it,” said Tony immediately.

“Tony, you need to knock it off.  It’s cruel.  Steve is doing his best and this is a really hard transition for him.  And he’s not nearly as _lame_ as you think he is.”

“Yes he is,” said Tony.  “He’s such an _‘aw shucks’_ type of dork.”

“No, he’s _not_ .  If you got to _know_ him, you’d find out he can be just as funny and insensitive and politically incorrect as you.  Just last week we went out, and he told me the dirtiest joke I’ve ever heard.  But unlike you, he can _turn it off._  It’s called _tact,_ Tony.  You could use some.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Okay, _Mom_.  I’ll go apologize to him now.”

“You’d better,” threatened Clint.

"I _will_ ," sneered Tony.  He stomped off to the break room.  Steve was watching the Roomba whir across the floor.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” said Steve with a weak smile.  “You got me again.”

“Yep,” said Tony, bouncing uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.  “Clint’s pretty mad and told me to come apologize.”

“Aw, that’s okay.  I guess I’m pretty gullible sometimes.”

“No, he’s right.  This is probably a really hard transition for you,” said Tony.  He gestured toward the Roomba.  “Even the voice-activated cleaning robot must blow your mind.”

“Wait.  It’s voice-activated?”

Tony nodded.  “Uh-huh.  I mean, this is one of the older models, but it was one of the first to have voice commands.  You just have to get its attention.  Watch.  Hey, Roomba!” He yelled.  The Roomba turned and puttered toward him.  Tony gestured.  “See?  Easy?  If you spill something you just call it over.  Very convenient.”

“I had no idea,” said Steve.

“Wow, I’m surprised.  Everyone’s always yelling at it.  It’s an older model, so it doesn’t always work perfectly.  Sometimes you _really_ have to yell.”  Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Welp, see ya, Steve.”

 

**Wednesday**

“Hey, Roomba! _Roomba!_ Roomba, come here!”

Clint’s hand froze on the doorknob.  With some apprehension, he turned it and walked in.  Steve was crouched on the floor in front of a pile of salt, trying to beckon the Roomba to him like a dog.

“Roomba!  Come here, Roomba!  Come on!”

“Steve?” asked Clint hesitantly.

Steve looked up.  “Oh, hi, Clint.  Can you help me with this darned robot?”

“It’s… it’s not voice-activated, Steve.  That’s not how it works.”

Steve’s face fell.  “Oh no.  But Tony…”

Clint picked up the salt shaker from the table.  “...unscrewed the top of the salt shaker so this would happen,” he observed grimly.

“But _he_ called the Roomba and it came!” protested Steve.  “I saw it!”

“Steve, the Roomba turns according to an internal algorithm.  Tony probably knew that and called it right when it was already going to turn.  You can’t make it come to you.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged.  “Geez.  He got me again.  Well… I’ll go get the dustpan.”

He took a pinch of salt and tossed it over his shoulder.  The Roomba glided past, missing it completely.

Swearing, Clint stomped out of the break room to find Tony, passing Thor, who was walking in holding his hammer.  

Tony was following him, nearly completely obscured by Thor’s bulk.  He purposely avoided Clint.

“Hello, Steve,” said Thor pleasantly, setting his hammer down on the floor.  The Roomba bumped into it and scooted off to the corner.

“Hi, Thor.”

“Thanks for moving that hammer for me, Thor,” said Tony casually, ignoring Steve.  “Fury’s got the best spot and I really don’t want the Tesla scratched.”  He pretended to just notice Steve.  “Oh, _hi,_ Steve.”

Steve winced and grinned at Tony, a bit embarrassed.  “I can’t believe you got me with the old salt shaker trick.”

Tony smirked.

“I enjoyed your jest last week, Steve,” said Thor, rummaging through the fridge.  “It was perhaps the crudest joke I’ve heard in a century.  But so true!”

“Thanks,” said Steve.

Tony snorted.  “Oh, give me a break.  Clint told me you had some filthy joke.  How bad could it be?”

From the couch, Bruce sat up sleepily.  “Oh, hey, are you guys talking about Steve’s dirty joke?  God, that was crazy.  I’ve never seen Natasha blush before.”

Tony’s eyes widened.  “When did everyone hear this joke?”

“Last week,” said Bruce.  “We went out for drinks.”

“You went out for drinks _without me_?”

“I invited you and you told me I was lame and you didn’t want to come!” protested Steve.  “You said there was a Hoarders marathon on A&E and you would rather stay home masturbating and drinking Hi-C mixed with cough syrup.”

Tony considered.  “Oh, yeah.  Well, I didn’t know everyone was going out.”  He paused. “So tell me the joke.”

“Okay.  A bulldog, a German, and the Lady O’Malley walk into a bar…” began Steve.

“You’re not just going to leave the salt all over the floor, are you?” asked Bruce disapprovingly.

“Oh, sorry.  I have to clean up this mess first,” said Steve, gesturing toward the pile of salt on the floor.  “I’ll tell you later, okay?  It’s kind of long.”  He got up to leave and almost immediately tripped over the Roomba.  Tony snorted and rolled his eyes at Steve.

 

**Thursday**

Clint managed to be the first one in the break room that day.  He breathed a sigh of relief and tip-toed toward the Keurig.

“Clint!”

Clint nearly jumped out of his skin.  He dropped the coffee grounds he’d been holding all over the floor.  The Roomba hummed past, ignoring them.

“Steve!  Are… are you always here so early?”

“Well, the early bird gets the worm,” said Steve.  He took a deep breath.  “Clint, look.  This week you’ve been really kind to me and very helpful.”

“Oh.  No problem, Steve.”

Steve held up a hand.  “I’m not done.”  He cleared his throat.  “I really appreciate everything you do and… well… this is hard for me to say, Clint.  You’re… a really good friend and… well…”  Steve dropped to one knee abruptly.  “Will you marry me?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Just so we meet our quota!” said Steve quickly.  “We can just stay friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Clint, striding over, grabbing Steve by the shoulder of his shirt, and pulling him to his feet.

“Tony explained that because of Equal Opportunity Employment, one of us would have to get gay married, and that I was randomly selected.”

Clint stared at him.  “You’re _kidding_ me.  And you believe that?”

“It came in the mail,” said Steve quickly.  “Tony just explained that’s why the team is so diverse, and he explained all the paperwork to me, too.”  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope.  He handed it to Clint.  

Clint opened it and examined the papers inside.  “Steve… this is obviously photoshopped.  You can tell by the pixels.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“It means Tony faked this and sent it to you and you don’t have to get married.”

Steve’s face flooded with relief.  “Oh, thank goodness.  I really thought… oh, man.  He got me good that time.”

Clint shook his head.  “I’ll have another talk with him.  He can’t keep doing this to you.”

* * *

Clint found Tony hovering by the water cooler with Natasha and Pepper, who were both giggling to themselves hysterically.  Tony looked peeved.  He was holding a small cardboard box.

“...but the part with the… the carriage driver… and the fire hose…” sputtered Pepper.

“...and the wig, I know, I know!” cried Natasha, and they dissolved into laughter.

“Tell me!  Tell me!” demanded Tony.

“No, no, you have to hear it from Steve,” said Pepper, wiping her eyes.  “No one tells it like he does, and it’s kind of long.”

“He made it up himself,” added Natasha.

“Hey, speaking of Steve… what the hell, Tony?” asked Clint loudly.  “Did you send him a bunch of papers in the mail saying he had to get married?”

“Last week,” said Tony innocently.  “I obviously can’t stop a letter once I’ve mailed it.  But that was _last week._  I didn’t prank Steve today.”  He sighed with fake disappointment.  “I just can’t believe he asked _you_ and not _me_.  I’d make an honest man out of him.”

“Oh, Tony,” frowned Pepper.

“Aw, leave him alone, Tony, he’s okay,” said Natasha.  “Ever since he told that joke last week, I realized he’s actually pretty funny.”

“Tell me the joke,” demanded Tony.

“Maybe Steve will tell you after you go apologize to him,” said Clint.

Tony groaned.  “Okay, okay, I’ll go apologize.   _Mom_.”  

“You’d better,” threatened Clint.

"I _will,_ " sneered Tony.  He stomped off to the break room, still carrying the cardboard box.  Steve was leaning against the counter by the Keurig, stirring a cup of coffee, surrounded by five young agents who were all howling with laughter.

“...and then the German turns to the to the bulldog and says, Well, if _that_ wasn’t Lady O’Malley, then who the hell’s wig was I wearing?” finished Steve, and the room erupted with roaring laughter.  “Oh, hey, Tony,” he said.

“Did you just tell the dirty joke?” asked Tony, looking annoyed that he missed it.

Steve smiled and nodded.  “Yeah.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed.  “Tell me,” he demanded.

“Yes!  Yes!  Tell it again!” cried one of the agents eagerly.

“Naw, it’s hard to get all the voices right,” said Steve bashfully, shaking his head.  

“Just do the German’s line again.  Please,” begged one of them.

“Aww… okay, okay.   _Oh jah, zis is ze sourdough, fraulein_.” Said Steve in a high falsetto, and everyone wailed with delight.  One of the agents choked on his coffee and needed another one to smack him on the back.

“I’m s-s-s-sorry,” sputtered the agent, red-faced.  “It’s just that it’s s-s-s-so _wrong_.”  Tears rolled down his cheeks and the woman who had smacked him on the back shook with silent laughter, gasping for breath.

“Steve,” said Tony sharply.  “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, Tony.  What’s up?”

“Tell me that joke.”

Steve looked uncomfortable.  “Raincheck, Tony.  It’s really sort of a complicated joke.”

Tony looked ready to throttle him.  “I’m the funny one.  You’re the leader.  That’s how the team is,” said Tony.

“I know, I know.  It’s just one little joke,” said Steve.

“Don’t be so humble, Steve.  That’s the best joke I’ve ever heard,” said one of the agents.

“I can't believe you thought of it!  It's so genius!” added another agent.

“Thank God they unfroze you.  That joke’s great!  No one would ever come up with something that fucked up again in a million years,” said the first agent.

“Oh God, I feel bad for laughing, but it really is the funniest joke I've ever heard,” agreed the second agent.

“Tell me!” shrieked Tony, actually stomping his foot.

“Tomorrow,” said Steve, patting Tony’s shoulder and standing up.  “I’ve got to go to a training session.  Bye everyone.”

“Bye, Steve!” chimed all the agents, still grinning and chuckling.

Tony followed Steve out of the break room angrily.  “Steve,” he said sharply.

“Yeah?”

Tony took a deep breath, and then relaxed.  His usual smirk came back.  “I feel bad about pranking you.  I really do.  Here.  As a token of my genuine, sincere apology, I got you a little something.”  He held up the box he’d been carrying around.

Steve stopped and looked nervously at Tony.  “Oh… geez… it’s not a… bunch of dumb videotapes or something is it?”

“No.  It’s a hat.”

“Is it a stupid hat?”

“Honestly?  I think it’s kind of stupid, but I thought you would like it,” said Tony.  “It sort of fits with your whole… patriotism thing.  Here.”

Hesitantly, Steve opened the box and pulled out a red baseball cap.  There was a pause.

“I actually _do_ like this hat,” he admitted.

“I thought you would,” said Tony.  “So.  Now will you tell me the joke?”

“Tomorrow,” said Steve, putting on the hat.  “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” was emblazoned across the top.

Tony looked relieved.  “Okay.  Great.  Thanks, Steve.  Good night.”

Whistling, he and Steve parted ways.

 

**Friday**

Fury slammed down a copy of USA Today onto the wooden conference table. _IS CAPTAIN AMERICA ENDORSING TRUMP?_ read the headline.

“Steve,” he said, voice dangerously quiet.

Steve shrugged helplessly, confused.  He was wearing his new hat.  “I don’t get it,” he said.  “I don’t even know who that is.”

“Then why the hell are you wearing that hat?”

“Tony gave it to me.”

All eyes turned toward Tony, who was struggling to keep a straight face.  His goatee was twitching as he repressed a smile.  “It’s just a hat,” he said meekly.

“God _damn_ it, Tony,” said Fury, slamming a hand down on the table.

“What, what?  What’s wrong with my hat?” cried Steve, taking it off and examining it.

“Your hat is associated with the biggest asshole in politics,” said Natasha.

“He’s sort of like Hitler with worse hair,” added Bruce.

Steve looked horrified.  “What!?  But I _hate_ Hitler!”  He exclaimed.  “Everyone _knows_ that about me!”

Tony sniggered.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  It’s just too _easy_.”

“Like Lady O’Malley,” muttered Thor quietly under his breath.  The room erupted into uproarious laughter.  

“HEY!” shouted Tony over the laughter, looking around desperately.  “I haven’t heard the joke yet!”

“You haven’t heard the joke?” said Fury, who had a broad, uncharacteristic smile.  He wiped a tear of laughter from his uncovered eye.  “Oh, boy.  That’s a _good_ joke.”

“ _Tell me._ ”

“I never get tired of that joke!” exclaimed Natasha eagerly.

“Tell it!  Tell it!” chanted Bruce and Thor.

Everyone looked at Steve expectantly.  Steve cleared his throat and looked down.  “I… er… I don’t want to tell the joke.”

Everyone groaned with disappointment.

“Tell me the fucking joke!” demanded Tony.

“No,” said Steve.  “I trusted you, Tony.  You said you were giving me a sincere apology last night, and instead, you pranked me again.  I don’t want to tell you my joke.”  He paused contemplatively.  “Besides, it’s a really, really, _really_ dirty joke, and you’re kind of…. immature.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.  “I _have_ to hear that joke,” he begged, looking around the room desperately.  “ _Please,_ Steve.  I’m really sorry this time.  I won’t prank you anymore.”

“No,” said Steve, crossing his arms.

“Steve, you tell me that joke or I swear to God I will kick your ass!”

“See?  Way too immature for my joke.”

Tony sprang to his feet, enraged.  “That’s it!  I’m getting my suit!  Let’s go!  You and me, Cap!”  

“You can fight me all you want but I won’t tell you my joke,” said Steve stubbornly.

Tony grabbed his hair in frustration.  “Please!   _Please,_ Steve!”

“...no..”

With a strangled yell of frustration, Tony stormed out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him.  A lengthy pause ensued.

“Got him,” said Fury with a note of satisfaction.

“That was great.  Thanks guys,” said Steve, sticking out his hand for Clint to high-five him.

“About time someone pranked him back,” agreed Natasha.  “Are we all on for next Monday’s prank?”  

Everyone murmured their consent.

“Hey Steve,” said Clint as they were leaving the conference room together.  “If you ever _actually_ want to hear a filthy joke, let me know.”

“No thanks,” said Steve, smiling.  “I’m good.”

\- End -

 


End file.
